


Spellwound Order

by YamiXenara



Series: The Spellwound Order [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Anakin eats bugs, Because Teens are Stupid and Teens with Magic are even More So, Eldritch Horror Anakin Skywalker, Eromancy/Sex Magic, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt Qui-Gon Jinn, Lineages, Magic, Mentions of Sex Toys, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Has Self-Esteem Issues, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Purple Prose, Qui-Gon Jinn needs a Hug after the day he's had, Star Wars but with Magic instead of the Force, Yoda is a Troll, kids being stupid, lineage feels, no sex in this story, played for laughs, tags will update as i go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamiXenara/pseuds/YamiXenara
Summary: “It’s eating him.”Anakin cut him off, his voice strangely affected. It wasn’t sorrow, or fear, but rather somethingother. He said it like heknewunquestionably that what he said was the truth. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked down, just as Anakin tilted his head to catch his gaze. His eyes were no longer tear-filled, but so very sharp. His mouth was a thin slash of red which, before Obi-Wan’s eyes, slowly spread into a smile that stretched far too wide for his face.“It’s eating him, burrowing down, but I can fix him. We just need to dig it out.”
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: The Spellwound Order [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899223
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	1. Fear, my Wonder-Child

**Author's Note:**

> So this one is going to be a collection of stories, mostly Gen, at points before A Thrice Bound Ring. Gonna be world-building and character building. This chapter isn't my strongest, however it came from a place of deep writers block as I was trying to write out the Order's structure so make of that what you will. 
> 
> Obi-Wan calls Anakin child a lot in this, but as a reminder, Ani's 14, Obi's 20, technically he's a teen Obi :/
> 
> That being said, I deeply wish to read a cross-over between Star-Wars and Fallen London, the Team meets the denizens of the Neath. However, I'm not brave enough for cross-overs.

Obi-Wan had never been proficient at healing, in fact, healing was one of the rare forms of magic that were completely untouchable to him. He could draw runes that promoted healing or eased the symptoms of sickness, but true healing was an untouchable art – truly beyond his understanding. That had never been more obvious than when he held a wasting _dying_ Qui-Gon Jinn in his arms, watching as his skin turned flimsy-thin and so very grey beneath his hands. The Darksider's sword hadn’t sliced his Mentor in half, but its’ magic was insidious, a corruption of the blood that _decayed_ that whom was inflicted with its’ curse. Obi-Wan couldn’t fix it, _Obi-Wan couldn’t fix it and his Mentor was dying in agony in his arms_. He breathed in the sickly-sweet scent of rot, and the thick metallic taste of blood, and hauled Qui-Gon with him as he rose. 

Obi-Wan didn’t know how he got to the hanger, the journey was a muffled blur of noise and color, suffocating fear and Qui-Gon’s pain so consuming Obi-Wan could almost physically feel it. What he did notice was the sudden silence that encompassed the space the second its inhabitants noticed their entry. It lasted only a second, but it felt an eternity, the silence was broken by someone’s call for a medic. Hands parted them, people crowding around Qui-Gon’s still form; arranging him on a stretcher. The child’s… no Anakin’s suddenly tearful face filled his vision, small hands tugging at his tabards, his voice piercing through the haze. 

“Is Mr. Qui-Gon gonna be ok?” Obi-Wan swallowed heavily, he wasn’t willing to lie to the boy, but he didn’t really want to admit that… his teeth grit as his breaths fell shallow from his lungs, even as he tore his eyes from Anakin back to Qui-Gon. To the boy, Qui-Gon Jinn was hope, a future free of his past indignities, a chance to become so much more… even, perhaps, a father figure. For all their past grievances Obi-Wan cared for his Mentor, yet it was his fault he was dying. Obi-Wan knew that at his core he was a failure, this was the proof; an apprentice too pathetic to heal the man who raised him. Obi-Wan felt the bite of his nails digging into the flesh of his hands, the visceral spike of pain that slashed through the growing foggy greyness of his vision. 

“I… no. No, he’s sick and I can’t heal him. I’m not –“ _good enough_. The words wouldn’t fall through the choking tightness of his throat. “It’s something dark, something…”

“It’s eating him.” Anakin cut him off, his voice strangely affected. It wasn’t sorrow, or fear, but rather something _other_. He said it like he _knew_ unquestionably that what he said was the truth. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked down, just as Anakin tilted his head to catch his gaze. His eyes were no longer tear-filled, but so very sharp. His mouth was a thin slash of red which, before Obi-Wan’s eyes, slowly spread into a smile that stretched far too wide for his face. 

“It’s eating him, burrowing down, but I can fix him. We just need to dig it out.” The child’s voice was thick with satisfaction, his eyes stared unerringly into Obi-Wan’s own with an odd flat glossiness. A tension filled the air as Anakin released his grip on the tabards, moving towards Qui-Gon as if pulled there on a string. The air was filled with knowing, the sensation of something building to an incomprehensible height, the buzz of it so thick Obi-Wan could feel it on his tongue as he desperately swallowed around a dry throat. He followed helplessly behind this unknowably strange child as that sensation tightened, so close to snapping under its own weight.

Qui-Gon was a ghastly pallid shadow of a man, his veins stained black against his flesh and breath coming in shallow rasps. Obi-Wan’s eyes burnt, his vision blurred. The medic had removed his tunic and under tunic, showing the wound weeping sticky black tar. It was obvious by her fluttering hands and pale pursed lips, that she had no clue what to do with him. No one did. How could they, being creatures of rationality and medicine? What could he do, a creature of magic and will? 

“It’ll be ok.” Obi-Wan startled, Anakin was standing opposite of him one hand spread above the wound. “It’s just an ugly bug. I’ve eaten WAY worse back ho- on Tatooine. It’ll be easy to dig out.” Anakin smiled again, that strange-wrong smile, his head falling to tilt just this side of discomforting. “Look, watch!” He grinned and there was an oily flash of _too-many-too-bright-teeth_ , followed by a palpable icy chill in his lungs. It was then and there that Obi-Wan realized this boy, this being, was something other. Something beyond comprehension and so terrifying that Obi-Wan _couldn’t breathe_. The seeping black ooze surrounding Qui-Gon’s wound _vibrated_. Something snapped, the tension in the air – _or perhaps something in Obi-Wan, something integral and indefinite but sorely missed, something removed to make space for something far more that sounds the way Anakin feels_ \- suddenly clearing the space around them. Anakin murmured and the magic around them sang.

The black lines around Qui-Gon’s neck and wrists and eyes softened back into obscurity, his breathing deepened, his color returned, and under Anakin’s hand, a writhing ball of black sludge was forming. Black tendrils wriggled from the wound and slid into the rest, and with one last sigh of a word, the rot around the wound seeped from his skin and joined the ball as a fine cloud of mist. The second Anakin’s hand touched the slick moving mass of darkness, they joined into one large oily-black slug that slapped into his palm with an audible squelch. Obi-Wan’s mouth was as dry as Tatooine as he numbly stared at the weakly wiggling thing in his hand.

“See Mr. Obi-Wan? I dug it out.” His smile hadn’t dropped the entire time, but for the first time, it didn’t register as horrific to Obi-Wan. The medic was flicking through the stages of disbelief, her eyes wider than a hyperspace lane, mouthing magic, and by the goddess with a shaky reverence. Qui-Gon’s face was relaxed, smoothed out where it had been so very recently scrunched into pain. All because of Anakin, this terrifying wonder-child who was, _currently trying to put the kriffing dark magic slug into his mouth_ , staring at Obi-Wan as he threw the slug on the ground and poured every single too-much-too-exhausting emotion he felt into the flames conjured to consume it. 

“My dear, don’t put weird bugs in your mouth.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but chide, exhaustion dripping from every word. He’d overexerted himself, poured too much into his flames, he felt burnt out and hollow. He wasn’t all too surprised when his vision blurred, as he slumped to the floor, and passed out cold.

He (briefly) woke up to clean sheets and Anakin staring at him from the foot of the bed. It was, he groggily mused, a rather unpleasant awakening since Anakin’s eyes were glowing white and he appeared to be hovering about a foot off the floor. Or at least he thinks that was what happened, it was rather blurry and he fell back asleep again soon after. It was hours later he was roused by the entrance of Grand Mentor Yoda and Council Mentor Mace Windu, a blurry half-remember conversation slid through his memories before he once more fell under. He awoke slowly, his limbs aching and trembling with magical exhaustion even after his rest. It was with weariness he dressed, layering his robes and rebuilding himself as he did so. As his belt tightened, he breathed, back straightening and his mask fixing into place. Obi-Wan could have sought out Qui-Gon, he was currently immersed in bacta over in the palace med-wing, but he didn’t. After the morning he’d had, his memory of Yoda and Windu debriefing him on what happened returning in patches, he didn't feel up to much –

_They didn’t fully believe that the creature Obi-Wan fought was a true Darksider. If it wasn’t for everyone’s statements and their corroborative evidence, it probably would have been dismissed entirely. Obi-Wan had, after all, destroyed all the physical evidence. But Qui-Gon was unconscious, his legs still strangely discolored despite the rest of him being healthy. The Palace Guards remember the Zabrak and his dark black blade, and the pilots recognize the boy who flew like piloting was in his blood. In the absence of Qui-Gon, and with the ‘proof’ of Obi-Wan’s skill (the Medic and all the people who watched the miraculous leeching of the darkness all swore they saw Obi-Wan do it, the boy was normal nothing special at all, Obi-Wan took the darkness and burnt it to ashes it’s the truth) he was promoted from Journeyman to Master. Obi-Wan wished it was Qui-Gon telling him so. Obi-Wan wished he knew that he could tell the Council the truth about Anakin, but something undefined held him back. -_

He needed something that would take his entire attention, would divert his thoughts from the all-consuming anxieties that were plaguing him.

He left to find Anakin. 

Anakin was with Handma- Queen Amidala. They were chatting, or rather Anakin was chatting, about magic. His hands waved in the air as his voice raised with his excitement. The Queen had an interested, if bemused expression on her face, and was nodding along in all the right places. Anakin’s joy sounded like bells in the air around him. Obi-Wan let out a cough and laughed as Anakin jolted around so fast, he almost fell.

“Obi-Wan!” the air rang louder, the bells tolled, and Anakin launched himself at Obi-Wan with glee. His arms wrapped around Obi-Wan’s waist, his chin dug into his stomach, and he grinned up gleefully from where he’d attached himself. Obi-Wan startled briefly before his hands raised almost automatically to card through the younger boy’s hair. “You’re al’ight.” Obi-Wan smiled down at him softly, a warmth budding in his chest.

“Hmm, what have you been up to?” Anakin began to talk quickly, words spilling over themselves as he filled the room and Obi-Wan, with simple joy. He knew at that moment, the same way he knew Anakin was other, that Anakin would be his apprentice. But it was Anakin’s smile and knowing eyes, the way his hand stayed curled around Obi-Wan’s tunics, that showed Anakin knew it too.


	2. A Matter of Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan shook his head. With one hand he grabbed one of the cheap plastic chairs lining the wall and dragged it closer to the bed. He sat, one leg crossed lightly at the knee, foot pointed towards Qui-Gon as he crossed his arms against his chest. Pointed and poised, the arch of his chin in line with the sudden accusing point of his finger.
> 
> “Yes, you should have Mentor! You would have if you hadn’t rushed off to confront the Blood Mage on your own! Do you know how irresponsible that was? You almost DIED!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters have doubled since the last time we've met.
> 
> Twice the pride, double the writer's block!
> 
> In all seriousness, enjoy some lineage feels and a comprehensive guide to Order rankings.
> 
> Anyway, you know the drill.

The Halls of Healing always smelt the same, of disinfectant and bacta and the humming treacle sweetness of healing magic that had long since seeped into the building’s foundation. It was a combination of scents that never failed to trigger Obi-Wan’s nausea. Today was no exception. He didn’t particularly want to be gracing the Healing Halls on this fine day, for once the Summoning Halls were empty of Initiates and Acolytes, however, the wide-eyed figure at his side had sealed his fate for the day. Anakin was freshly dressed in the soft tunic and leggings of the Initiates, the hems slightly too long at the ankles and already rumpled on his frame. His mouth was pursed even as he looked around at the halls in undisguised wonder, hands coiled in Obi-Wan’s outer-robe as he trailed after him like a baby shaak. They’d come directly from the council chambers, Anakin newly sworn into the order and placed within the Initiates halls until he was ready to take on Acolyte duties or Qui-Gon was declared able to teach. _He’s only 14,_ Obi-Wan sighed, his teeth biting down on his lower lip, _he’s only 14 yet he has so much to learn._

“Mentor Jinn’s room is here.” Obi-Wan gestured at the closed door in front of them, Healers in white robes moved around them with muffled steps and soft conversation, the halls were too cold for how bright they shone. “Do you want to go in by yourself, Anakin?” Anakin shook his head and pressed closer to his side, tension radiated from his fingers to his feet as he shifted nervously. Obi-Wan could relate to that palpable uneasiness, he felt it too. “Well then, let’s not keep my old Mentor waiting.” Obi-Wan pressed his fingers into the boy’s shoulder as he swiped open the door, urging him through the gap. Qui-Gon Jinn was tucked into the bed with crisp white sheets holding him hostage. He was half raised, eyes focused brightly on a hideously ugly fluorescent orange-and-brown spotted plant on his side table. 

“Ah, Obi-Wan, you’ve finally come to check in on me.” Qui-Gon’s voice rung with easy mirth as he turned to look at his two guests. “I was wondering if my long-suffering former apprentice would stop by to see me, congratulations on your ascension to Master.” His smile faltered, softened into wistfulness, “I should have been there to see it.” Obi-Wan shook his head. With one hand he grabbed one of the cheap plastic chairs lining the wall and dragged it closer to the bed. He sat, one leg crossed lightly at the knee, foot pointed towards Qui-Gon as he crossed his arms against his chest. Pointed and poised, the arch of his chin in line with the sudden accusing point of his finger.

“Yes, you should have Mentor! You would have if you hadn’t rushed off to confront the Blood Mage on your own! Do you know how irresponsible that was? You almost DIED!” Obi-Wan didn’t raise his voice, the sharp emphasis of his words and the prim drawling enunciation dripping disappointment said everything careless yelling would. With the guilty look growing on Qui-Gon’s face it was certainly effective. Obi-Wan let his voice soften, let the harsh clipping of his words fall away and sorrow tinge their flavor, “You almost died Mentor. I was so scared I’d lose the closest person I have to a father all because of your pride. You are a great Mage, and a good man, but you are not a fighter. I almost lost you, the order almost lost you –“

“I almost lost you.” Anakin’s voice startled Obi-Wan from his tirade, the boy’s hands were clenched together, fidgeting under the sudden weight of both their regard. He’d been standing at Obi-Wan’s side, one step behind and hunched over. For a boy so lanky for his age, he could appear so small under the eyes of others. _Oh Anakin_ , of course. For as little a time they’d known each other, Anakin had attached himself quite thoroughly to the older man. Qui-Gon was the person who got him off the dustball of a planet Tatooine was, probably plucked him from a life of poverty and obscurity. For all that he was the one who saved Qui-Gon, he was still a child who almost watched someone he knew die.

“Anakin, Obi-Wan, I am so sorry for the suffering I’ve caused you these past few days. It was not my intention to hurt you both, but I have, and for that, I deeply apologize.” Qui-Gon stated solemnly, his voice low and soothing, his gaze was older than his years and so tired. He shifted, the movement strangely stilted, only his chest and arms moving as he settled. “My arrogance in my abilities has led me to receive a wound that I’ll likely never fully recover from.” His lips twisted wryly, but his eyes darkened with pain. His voice was drenched with bitterness when he next spoke, “The spell the Darksider used was an ancient and very dark Blood Magic. It sent a rot through my body, a corrosion that ate away at my insides. Although it was removed before it reached and ate my essential organs, it managed to consume part of my spine and much of the nervous system below my waist.” Ice spilled like a waterfall down Obi-Wan’s spine, his sudden harsh intake of breath was audible to those in the room.

“So... you mean –” Obi-Wan started,

“I wasn’t quick enough?!” Anakin cried out, lips trembling and eyes glossing over with unshed tears,

“You two, it was no-one’s fault but my own. As of now I have no sensation in my legs. But the healers have assured me that they believe with time, and with our marvelous modern science, partial sensation could be returned. As it is, I’m not inept.” He scoffed, one hand wildly waving in the air in a feeble attempt to diffuse the mood, “I’ll be ‘up and about’ in no time at all. I’ll finally be able to challenge Grand Mentor Yoda to a hover-chair race.” He quirked his lips into a grin and shrugged, “And I’ll always have magic. The magic of life runs through everything-” he clicked his fingers and a second hideous flower burst from a bud on the plant beside his bed. “So, I’ll be able to entertain myself while I recover.” Obi-Wan bowed his head, a rueful smirk pulling across his face. _Even suffering he tries to stay kind, he hasn’t changed a single bit since the day I met him._

“There’s no accounting for taste Mentor, but I’m glad you seem to be doing well.” Qui-Gon waved him off, matching Obi-Wan expression with his own emotion tinted grin.

“Now Anakin, how have you been settling in? Has Obi-Wan been looking after you?” Anakin finally relaxed, shoulders slumped but his face bright.

“Yes Mentor Jinn, I’ve been put in the Initiates hall with the kids” his nose wrinkled a bit on the word kids, “so I can learn the basics and rules and stuff. I haven’t seen any of my roommates, but I don’t think I’ll be with ‘em for long. Will you be takin’ me as your Acolyte Mentor Jinn? Or will…” He tugged in the shoulder of Obi-Wan’s robe, his eyes flicking down to look at the floor rather than at Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan raised a hand to lightly pat Anakin’s twisting, fidgeting fingers. 

“What have you learned so far?” Qui-Gon neatly deflected. Anakin bounced on his heels and tilted his head as he thought. His reply was hesitant and followed by the roll of his bottom lip catching on his teeth.

“Ah… there are six ranks to the Order starting with Initiate, the beginners. Initiate is um when you learn the basics like rules and things. Then there’s Acolyte, which is the next stage? And it's um, like Journeyman but with more people, I think? Like, you have your main Mentor, but other Mentors can also teach you stuff? And there are lots of classes. Then there’s Journeyman which is what Obi-Wan was, and that’s… specialized Mentors?” Anakin took a deep breath, his forehead wrinkling and eyes darting over to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan felt himself smile encouragingly; they’d talked this all over on the way to the Healing Halls. 

“So, Journeyman rank is when you get a standalone mentor or two… or even three! But they specialize in what you learn? Like Obi-Wan Apprenticed under you to learn Diplomacy, and something about lineage politics?” His voice sounded vaguely disgusted at the word politics, which was fair, Obi-Wan had no love for politics either. 

“And Master dictates a Mastery in a field and means you’ve completed your training under your Mentor. That’s what Obi-Wan is now I think.” He looked over at him and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Then there’s Mentor, which you become if you take on an Apprentice, and you stay a Mentor for the duration that you have an Apprentice? Then you go back to being a Master… except to your former Apprentice?” Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon couldn’t help back chuckle at the last line, and Anakin flushed pink with embarrassment.

“Sorry Anakin, we don’t mean to make fun of you. Technically you’re supposed to call them Master after a Mentorship has ended, but in practice, it rarely happens. After so long calling Qui-Gon my mentor, I’ll likely be slipping up for decades.” Obi-Wan watched as the boy took it in before flushing again with embarrassment, he ducked his head and spoke his next line to the ground.

“And then there’s Grand Mentor, which belongs to the head of the Order which is the tro- which is Yoda.” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at the slip, and Obi-Wan mentally sighed. _Something that needed to be addressed, undoubtedly._

“Excellent Anakin, I’m proud of what you’ve already managed to pick up. I have no doubt you’ll be part of the Acolyte ranks soon.” Qui-Gon praised and Anakin beamed, the sunshine bright feel of his magic suffused the room in his childish delight. There was still so much that needed to be said, so much that wouldn’t leave his mouth no matter how hard he tried to force them. There was still hurt, still, a conversation to be had going forward. A knock sounded at the door, and a Healer stuck his head in. Obi-Wan almost laughed in relief.

“Mentor Jinn, we need to apply a fresh application of Bacta-” Obi-Wan stood and delicately brushed out his robes.

“We’ll take our leave now then,” He nodded at Qui-Gon who waved back at them both, then at the healer who entered the room. He placed a hand between Anakin’s shoulder blades and gently steered him out of the door.

“Bye Mentor Jinn!” Anakin shouted over his shoulder.

“See you soon Mentor.” Obi-Wan continued, then he turned on his heel and fled with Anakin from the healing halls. He did so hate the nausea they brought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the coming chapters will explain what the heck lineage politics are, but a summary is; certain Order lineages have privileges, so getting a Mentor with the privileges you want is super important - and is why Obi-Wan accepted Qui-Gon's offer of Mentorship even though they don't specialize in the same magic. 
> 
> Imma sketch out a timeline on the Series page, so if you're interested check that out later.


	3. A Matter of Lineages: On Eromancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The garden was a beautiful green place filled with life, fluffy green fronds, and trees arching over the little herb clearings. Said garden was also filled with most of Obi-Wan’s age mates and friends (he’d sent a betrayed glance over at Acolyte Bant Eerin, only to have her shrug apologetically and nod over at Quinlan- the traitor) who all cheered as Vos dragged Obi-Wan into the gathered circle. 
> 
> What followed was the worst half-hour of Obi-Wan’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you can tell, but I crack myself up. Tell me that teenagers with magic wouldn't do this kinda shit I d a r e you. Anyway, I don't know if you can tell, but I edit my own work - I have no beta, and thus my mistakes are my own. If you see something that needs to be tightened up, lemme know in the comments!
> 
> I hope you enjoy :3

Yan Dooku first heard about Eromancy, he was in his 20’s. Young but effortlessly dignified he found himself laughing scornfully at the younger Journeymen whispering in hidden-away alcoves about _lust magic_ of all things. A fruitless waste of time and one he had no interest in indulging, thus he put it out of his mind and memory for good. After all, only imbeciles would think there was anything worth knowing from such drivel. 

\--0—

Qui-Gon Jinn was relatively well learned in Eromancy, after all, one could come to the conclusion that Eromancy was an offshoot of Life Magic, and Qui-Gon knew from experience many of the foundations of Eromancy had roots in Chloromancy and Conjuration practices. His interest was a relatively academic leaning, however; the study of how one School of Magic could change or evolve into others, or how the rituals of one type of magic creates a new meaning when given a different _Intent_. Of course, it didn’t _start_ academic of course, when Qui-Gon first heard about it – he was 20 and obstinate when faced with obstacles – and what was the biggest obstacle to a Journeyman than their Mentor’s distaste in frivolities?

The mere fact his old Mentor was so against it made learning about Eromancy so much more enticing to a young Qui-Gon, well that and the usual suspects of peer-pressure and a desire to impress the other apprentices (… and Tahl but who would know?). In the end, Qui-Gon learned three important things about Eromancy; One, it’s a combination of pre-existing signal and spoken based magic – not a sigil-based school like Ritualism, Runework, and Alchemy. Two, being adept with Chloromancy or Transmutation magic meant you could get creative with some of the spells – a popular adjustment among many was the ability to add flavor to the _lubris_ spell. Three, Eromancy is surprisingly difficult thus, with no exception, the first time anyone attempts the lubris spell they’ll get it wrong. Qui-Gon’s own attempt was, amusingly, fluorescent green and an awful mixture of too watery _and_ too oily. It also smelt like freshly cut grass with a hint of lime. Needless to say, none of the other apprentices who tried the spell after him did any better, but none of them quite managed to surpass the sheer (horrifying) beauty of Qui-Gon’s concoction. 

Qui-Gon over the years grew less interested in Eromancy as a practical school of magic, as most of its practical applications weren’t really useful in a diplomatic or combat situation. By his 30’s he’d completely relegated it’s practical uses to ‘a fun but pointless use of time’ while continuing to study its roots and how it grew into a new if niche school of its own. If, however, a newly Mentored Qui-Gon ended up finding his way back to his apprentice by following a trail of luminescent green liquid that smelt of grass and lime – well, only he knew where that came from. 

\--0--

The first time Obi-Wan Kenobi heard about Eromancy he honestly thought it was a form of Divination. He also would have been happy dying still convinced it was a form of Divination, however as fate (or meddling friends) would have it, it was not to be. One Quinlan Vos took it upon himself with glee to initiate fellow Journeyman Kenobi into the ‘secret’ ring of burgeoning Eromancers within the Order. After enthusiastically enlightening Obi-Wan to what exactly Eromancy really was and laughing at Obi-Wan’s mortified mottled red face, he whisked him off to where the group was meeting in one of the lesser frequented herb gardens. The garden was a beautiful green place filled with life, fluffy green fronds, and trees arching over the little herb clearings. Said garden was also filled with most of Obi-Wan’s age mates and friends (he’d sent a betrayed glance over at Acolyte Bant Eerin, only to have her shrug apologetically and nod over at Quinlan- the traitor) who all cheered as Vos dragged Obi-Wan into the gathered circle. 

What followed was the worst half-hour of Obi-Wan’s life.

It didn’t start out as the worst half-hour in the history of bad half hours, in fact, it started out simply enough; Vos enthusing about the myriad of usages Eromancy spells had (Obi-Wan was reluctantly interested despite himself – he had just spent the last year on Mandalore and well… he couldn’t help but flush) and about their supposed difficulty. It was said with the boastfulness of youth, so sure that simple conjuration spells could be conquered that all else was willfully ignored, including safety. Unfortunately, it was a very transmittable type of stupidity, naïve optimism crossed with adolescent horniness does not, a good combination, make (a lesson learned in hindsight). Hearts in mouths and shaking hands conjured first a ridiculous variety of different lubrication; the flowing swirling hand motion for aqua, the circular cross of oil, the press of healing – two fingers split and the sharp arc across their chests. Deep blue and watery with a scent of deep-sea brine, purple and gelatinous with a scent like paint, glittery pink and… pulsating… kind of smelt like candy, and Obi-Wan’s – close to perfect inconsistency if a hazardously bright orange with brown stripes. _For all that no-one succeeded completely, it wasn’t a horrific spell_ , Obi-Wan remembers thinking, _there are other usages for the spell beyond the purely carnal – and it was an interesting lesson into using known spell aspects to create new spells._

It was at that moment Quinlan decided to move onto his next spell demonstration; on the transmutation of the ordinary into objects of erotic leaning. Also known as the spell to turn any object into a sex aid. A simple spell with its roots in transmutation, and a spell mostly reliant on the will of the caster. Obi-Wan hadn’t, in fact, heard any of this, however, as he had zoned out to think about all the potential usages of magical salve in the field (it was after all one part healing magic in a tangible matter – with more healing capabilities than anything Obi-Wan could summon on his own… imagine- ). As such Obi-Wan also missed when Quinlan decided to show the spell in practice as an example. 

He awoke three hours later to a tearful eyed Bant overlooking his bed in the Healing Halls, and a Healer checking him for signs of a concussion. His head hurt, his body ached, and he felt like he’d been hit by a speeder. He remembers groggily asking the healer what had happened and realizing he wished it had been a speeder. It was much worse. The story was as follows: A cocky Quinlan uses the spell on the large stretching branch of a tree above the group. It transfigures almost perfectly – however due to Quinlan still being very much a novice at the spell, he was unable to resize the finished product into the size it should have been, and thus it remained the size of a tree branch. The object, no longer being a tree branch and thus attached to the tree, fell. Obi-Wan zoned out and not expecting danger from above doesn’t move when the rest of the group does. 

Instead, he gets knocked out by a giant sparkling purple dildo.

Obi-Wan doesn’t much like Eromancy. It is, after all, an uncivilized use of magic.

\--0—

Anakin’s introduction to Eromancy was swift, hormone-driven, and mostly another way of one-upping Ferus Olin. Anakin had found out about it from a couple of the other Acolytes who had gathered together to discuss it. It wasn’t easy getting what they knew from them as Anakin was an outsider among the masses – a Mentor already invested in teaching him, and power far beyond their own – and he couldn’t help but scorn them for it. Obi-Wan always nagged him about being nicer to the Nerf-Herders! But they were the ones who snubbed him first! Anyway, Anakin learned from a group of Acolytes that Ferus and some of the other members of his age-group had formed a little club around new, experimental, types of magic – and the one they were researching currently was Eromancy. 

Now Anakin couldn’t let Ferus get ahead in some new type of magic, and it did seem rather _interesting_ , so he scavenged for and cajoled from others what little written down knowledge there was of it. To his surprise, not all of it was about sex and the aid of – notes had been made about the healing usages of one of the spells… that there were three things you should know about the art… something about making sure whatever you’re transmuting is already detached and in a safe place… even something about Ancient Marriage bonds being adapted into purely sensory bonds. Generations of addendums and passed-on knowledge accumulated to form something wholly unique... A legacy wrapped in a bow of questionably useable spells. 

He realized that he’d made a little bit of a spectacle hunting down the information he needed, so it didn’t really surprise him that Ferus had in turn, hunted him down. In fact, it was as he was reading up on one of the spells, _lubris_ , that Ferus Olin and his groupies found him. Now what exactly happened next is down to debate; Anakin was positive Ferus started it by demanding the book, and Ferus was of the opinion that Anakin was the one who threw down the challenge of whoever manages a better lubris spell gets the book, regardless a challenge was set and accepted. Ferus tried first, having learned the spell from word of mouth, with a delicate dance of fingers he summoned a handful of baby-blue, fresh linen smelling, watery slime. The group around them cheered, Anakin rolled his eyes, and then it was Anakin’s turn.

Anakin knew the spell had a reputation for being impossible to get right on the first try, but he also knew he wasn’t going to fail in front of _Olin_ , so he etched the signs into the air with graceful fingers and _**willed**_. Anakin had a vague inkling he’d karked up when his hands began to shake, and the air filled with a cloying scent of mixed fruits and the headier scent of chocolate underlying it. Like watching a speeder crash in slow motion, Anakin watched as a truly massive blast of pressurized lube exploded from his hands and drenched Ferus in a layer of translucent blush-pink liquid that just so happened to be a text-book perfect replica of the spell down to its silky-slick consistency. Ferus’ mouth had, unluckily for him, been open at the time of the blasting, and his face was slowly turning a deep puce color that really did nothing for his looks normally – but looked absolutely marvelous with the mien he had going. So, with a group of angry eyes staring him down (and Ferus’ spluttering and gagging), Anakin picked up the book and fled.

\--0—

If someone were to ask Grand Mentor Yoda about Eromancy, he’d merely throw back his head and cackle for a solid minute, before turning and facing them with deep wise eyes.  
“Answered that question will not be. Be known some things must not.”


End file.
